Illusions
by whk
Summary: Sometimes, it's impossible to tell between reality, and simple hallucinations. By the time Ginny learns, the ball will be over, and the hour too long past midnight. (DG) Chapter 1: Ginny's dead.
1. Death

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything recognizable. Harry Potter and all related characters, settings, ideas are property of J.K. Rowling.

**Illusions**

By WhK

--

The room had little white walls, and she was instantly reminded of death.

Death, like seeing so much pure white that it blinded your vision and caused your eyeballs to explode, leaving your sockets moist and empty, leaving you to bleed, bleed, bleed until all of your blood-tears pooled down to the bottom, still seeping onto, no _into_, the white blankness until all of the sharp, lively red disappeared.

White was the color of utter loneliness. Enclosed in it, there was not a single bacterium, nothing prokaryotic nor eukaryotic, no intelligent or unintelligent life at all. She didn't breathe, she didn't move, she didn't taste, see, feel, smell, or hear.

She reached her hand out in front of her to check for her own existence.

She screamed and bled again and again as she saw nothing in front of her but more endless, stretching, agonizing white.

But her scream was engulfed and silenced. And she knew there could be nothing worse than this.

--

She saw now (or did she) that it was no room at all. It could not be contained, nor could she. She was certainly not constrained by the limitations of a human body, but neither could she move, glide, swoop freely.

She simply was. In the midst of everything and nothing, she was. The only that kept her _being_ was her consciousness.

The white boundaries threatened to take her in. Coaxing at first, and then forceful. Take her eternally so that she may live without a body, without a voice.

With a harsh laughter that the relentless place quickly dissolved, she wondered if perhaps she was stuck in her own mind. Forever to wander the maze with no sense of anything.

Time became a concept of yesterday. She had already been here forever and would be another forever or two.

Had she been real, an effable body, or even a spirit, ghost, spectre, she would have rocked back and forth, back and forth, holding herself in the biting, chewing coldness. She would have moaned out hoarsely, a wail of inscrutable pain and such, such loneliness. She was driven to madness, always fighting to keep herself from becoming frozen, always fighting to keep loneliness from draping her with it's shadow.

Until there was a change.

--

It was, at first, a gentle shimmer. A shimmer, then something that she could only conceive as a door. She shrank. The miniscule door grew, then zoomed and flew her towards it. Everything was still a small, tiny series of reverberations; they could be unseen the very next moment, if she looked away. If she were the least bit distracted, or she breathed too heavily or even thought of it too much, it would poof and disappear.

But she didn't look away.

Pushed through something hard and yet penetrable, she was sucked through what she wanted to call the other side.

There was a rush of color.

--

"Where am I?" was the first question she felt herself ask. She stretched every part of her body, as if now, all of a sudden, the idea of controlling a body in a tangible world were ridiculous.

A voice answered her question.

"You're home, Ginny." She looked up. The warm, kind face of her brother Ron came into view. Ginny giggled.

"Home?" It sounded almost foreign. Ron shook his head.

"It's the first day of classes, silly. If you don't hurry up, we'll miss the train." Ron ruffled her hair affectionately. Ginny sat, confused, but delighted by all that she could taste. She breathed in, and tasted the metallic air. Refreshing.

"But…I was alone. In a…in a…." She couldn't describe it. " In a white room. Alone. I was dying."

Ron pursed his lips.

"Must have had a nightmare. It's been a while since you've had one, anyway." Seeing Ginny's worried look, Ron smiled.

"Relax. Go get ready. You'll feel better soon."

Ginny floated out of bed, feeling worn and unwashed and positively dirty, for a reason unknown. She felt almost irritated, like she was forgetting something she shouldn't.

She walked from place to place in an almost dreamlike state, wondering why she felt so lightheaded, so awkward.

But Ron was right. By the time she bade her parent's goodbye and was successfully on the train, she was feeling better. Almost normal, one could say. She chatted with her friends, and forgot all about her strange dream. Sometimes dreams did that, didn't they? They haunted you for a while.

But all haunts went away at some point. All of them.

--

Ginny Weasley's 6th year at Hogwarts promised to be better than the last 5. Everything had gone insanely right, to the point where she felt suspicious that her good luck would soon, very soon, run out.

She was glad she was not taking Divination.

Suddenly, everything seemed to come to her with great ease, with the ease of someone who was indefinitely sage and wise. She brushed it off as growing up, however. Perhaps she was finally discovering her talents.

Her school work, most of all, was going well. Even the professors seemed to notice her improvement and commended her, all with the exception of Snape. Nothing bothered her, however, not even him.

She took Ron's fruitless attempts to ward off any potential boyfriends as if the action were distinctively cute. She allowed the occasional Slytherin bully to taunt her for her lack of money or clothes or dignity, and she brushed past them with a serene smile.

She even tolerated Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, the annoying little boy that he was. Or perhaps tolerated might be an understatement. He had grown up, hadn't he? Or maybe she had.

It was a strange, peculiar feeling. One that could be poked at with a stick and awakened. One that, if it were not toyed with, if it were not thought of, would die down and nearly disappear, and not remind her of its presence. It was still young and premature, like a weak seedling of a tree. One big breeze could knock it down. One plentiful rainfall could nurture it into a giant.

For while she had never realized it until now and perhaps…perhaps even then, she had not really known, except in the deepest places of herself where she never tread—

Known, that she loved Draco Malfoy.

--

**Note:** If any of this seems extremely confusing to you right now; good. It should be. This fic will jump around time a lot—time won't be such a linear thing as we are all used to, but all of it is necessary for the eventual plot. So I'm asking you to be blind for a while here, and read this fic as it is written and try not to confuse yourself with too many questions.


	2. Invitation

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything recognizable. Harry Potter and all related characters, settings, ideas are property of J.K. Rowling.

**Note: **Now, we begin to fall into pace of a seemingly normal story, going more in depth. I'm prone to dislike these first few beginning chapters before it gets to the real action. Most of it is dialogue, but at least the fan girl in all of us is getting the sufficient amount of D/G. Nothing too deep yet, but lets see how all of this ties in. Also, excuse the wonky formatting.

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**Illusions**

_Chapter II: Invitation_

By WhK

--

"Oy, Weasley!"

Ginny fixed her face into a nasty glare and whirled on him. She lifted her chin to face her assailant, and was reminded again of how much he had grown, towering over her rather menacingly. It made her feel all the more inferior, she thought darkly.

"What do you _want_, Malfoy?" she asked crossly. " Haven't you had enough of bothering me for one day?"

He gave a sly grin, one that did not seem to fit his 17-year-old frame.

" Never, Weasley. Never."

Ginny snorted and stalked on, but not too quickly.

"Listen, Weasley—hey, stop that! Stop walking, Ginny! I'm trying to ask you something!"

Ginny stopped reluctantly. She put her hands upon her hips and stared with narrowed eyes.

"Make it fast, Malfoy, I've got a Prefects meeting to attend to," she said.

"You and me both, Weasley, don't forget."

He paused then, suddenly entranced by the holiday decorations laced around the ceiling of the castle.

"My parents—"

"Not a good way to start off a sentence, Malfoy," Ginny warned. He waved her protests away.

"—Are holding a ball."

"Come to boast about it?"

"You underestimate me."

"Go on, then, I haven't got a century."

"You're coming."

Ginny froze, confused.

"I'm coming where?"

"To the ball, you dolt."

Ginny paused for a second, and then let out a raucous laugh.

"And why in the name of Merlin would I do that?"

"I'm asking you to come with me. As my date." His face was solemn, if a bit irritated.

"You're off your rocker, although I've always known it. This isn't funny, either."

"I'm not kidding. I'm completely serious." Or perhaps he was rather adept at acting.

Ginny studied his face for a moment. She decided that perhaps he was a bit serious, and what he was suffering from was actually mental illness.

"Don't you have Pansy, or some other rich, snobby girl to take with you? Why me?" she asked with a raised brow.

"Pansy's engaged."

"Engaged?" Ginny gasped. "To who?"

"Some rich bloke. A convenient marriage, they said. Anyway, it'll look highly unattractive to having a promised woman around your arm. I don't do unattractive."

"And me hooked around your arm is more attractive?" she asked suspiciously.

"Who ever said you weren't attractive?" he said softly, a smirk tugging at his lips. Ginny growled, but blushed never the less. It turned out that she was not immune to flattery, no matter who it came from.

"Don't argue about this, Malfoy. I am not going to a ball with you. That would be too hypocritical—no, not even that. Simply ludicrous. We are enemies, okay? Enemies don't go dancing arm in arm, like everything's just dandy."

As Ginny turned to storm away, Malfoy swiftly grabbed her elbow, turning her back around.

"Oh, come now, Weasley," he pouted. "It'll be the experience of your life. A grand night of dazzling aristocracy—something you'll likely never experience again. Doesn't the prospect of a pretty gown entice you?"

"No," Ginny lied. Besides, she hadn't had fantasies about going to a grand ball since she was young enough to play with dolls. "Anyway, I don't have money—"

"All expenses will be paid." Ginny shook him off.

"Why are you so bent on taking me, if there is such a ball? There are other girls in this world, all of them, which I am sure you like better than me! And you're really starting to peeve me, Malfoy, so let me go!" Ginny bristled and shook him off. Draco grabbed her arm again and gave her a curious look.

"And what gave you the idea that I would hate you more than any other girl in this world?"

"Oh, I don't know, your incessant tauntings, perhaps—"

" Never mind that. Just say you'll go. I know it's spur of the moment, but I promise you, it'll be worth it."

"Impossible. Like your parents would let me set foot on their manor."

"They don't have to know."

"How could they not?"

"They don't notice much."

"Hogwash. It'll never work."

"It will work because I say so. Doing me this favor is the least you could do, after all the torture you've put me through throughout the years." Ginny reeled in the outrage of his words.

"Torture you? Me? Atrocious lies!"

"You hexed me two years ago."

"A lot of people hex you, Malfoy. It's a fact of life; you are very hexable."

"_You_ hexed me though! You, a little doe of a girl, innocent and puerile! Ron Weasley's sister! I was humiliated beyond belief. You must repay me for what you've done."

Ginny sighed. Why was the boy so persistent? Try and try as she might, she could not understand. He had certainly never wheedled with her like this before, and of all things, about attending a ball with him? Perhaps this was an absurd creation of her mind and only her mind, and only a moment later she would awake.

And anyway, even if Draco Malfoy truly needed her to go to this silly ball with him, the idea was crazy. If the idea was crazy, then certainly the reality of it would be horrendous. She barely knew him—well, she knew him well enough—but not the way she would have liked.

"Alright, I'll tell you why I'm taking you," he said reluctantly when he saw her contemplating face. "I'm taking you because though you may be a mudblood lover, you are still a pureblood none the less and trace back to honorable families. I'm taking you because you aren't hideous, and I'm taking you because you don't absolutely detest me, therefore out of all the women I know, will most likely accept this generous offer." He gave the smallest of smiles, one that curved into a smirk. "I'm taking you because I have to take someone."

Ginny glared at him with intensity. He was always so painfully arrogant.

"What makes you think I don't detest you? You've always been horrid to me!"

"Come on, Ginny," Draco smiled and pulled on her arm to draw her closer.

"I know you don't hate me because, you, unlike your brother, do not turn red every time I round a corner to insult you. In fact, I swear I catch you smiling sometimes, even as you've drawn your wand to hex me again. Sometimes, you enjoy it, even." Ginny spluttered wildly. That was not true. It was the most misconstrued statement of the century—no, no, the era!

"More importantly, I know you don't hate me because if you did, you would have said, ' I won't go with you because I don't want to.' Which, you didn't. Instead, you stood there like a fool, thinking up silly reasons as to why you shouldn't or couldn't." His lips curled. "You're not trying to convince yourself, are you?"

Ginny suddenly blinked, and then wondered when Draco had pulled her so close, close enough to be breathing down her neck.

"Say you'll come. I know you'll love it."

Ginny shook her head, but weakly. "You're trying to use me."

"Who said I wouldn't pay you? Do you know how disappointed my parents would be if I arrived at the ball without a proper date? They would be furious! My social life ruined, Weasley. To tell you the truth, this is supposed to be my coming-of-age party of sorts, in honor of the end of my schooling. I really need this now. I really need to appear my best."

She wondered if he were telling the truth. His face, for once, seemed sincere. And it seemed natural that his parents would care so much about appearances. And…she supposed it wasn't too surprising that he came running to her…she admitted, it had been a long time since they had really fought, fought in the way that Ron and he had….

Ginny clenched her sweaty palms and briefly got a vision of satin and silk and tafetta in pink, sky blue, periwinkle, all dancing and twirling to music.

_Say no, say no, no, no, no…._

"I'll think about it," she said and then cursed herself. Think about it? Think about what? There was nothing to think about—just a simple, flat, no. Why did she seem favorable towards completely humiliating herself, then? This time, by way of attending a stiff, high society ball with a boy she had been taught to war with her entire life?

"Fine," Malfoy said in a slightly standoffish tone. A moment later however, his voice softened.

"Shall I walk you?" he asked, sounding like a gentleman, but his eyes gleaming mischievously. Ginny's heart gave a small and very involuntary flutter.

"Walk me where?" Ginny asked, absentmindedly. She drifted off towards a corridor aimlessly with Malfoy following her steps.

"The Prefect's meeting, Ginny," he said slowly. "You know, the one we're all supposed to attend."

Ginny felt her face radiate heat, and then she gave a small nod.

"Why not," she said, keeping her voice dull and reluctant. "Just this once, then."

"You can think while we walk," Draco added.

--


	3. Instinct

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything recognizable. Harry Potter and all related characters, settings, ideas are property of J.K. Rowling.

**Illusions**

By WhK

-------

The truth was, Ginny had not been thinking about The Ball as much as she should have. It had been on her list of Things To Do, which meant she would never get around to actually completing the task.

It was simply something that would nag her mind relentlessly once she started pondering the pros and cons. So really, it was a mistake in the first place to ever catch a glimpse of Draco Malfoy in the halls.

She set her books down with a thump upon the library table, coughing as a cloud of dust rose from the old pages.

The dust cleared to reveal Hermione Granger.

"Hermione!" Ginny cried. "Just the person I was looking for." Hermione gave her a suspicious glance from her seat, peering over her own stack of books.

"Hmm. Doesn't that usually entail a favor of some sort?" she asked wryly. Ginny shook her head.

"No, no, unless sound advice is too big of a favor." Hermione smiled.

"What's on your mind, Ginny?"

"Well…it's a rather…strange question." Ginny settled in and folded her hands in front of her.

"Try me."

Her tongue running over the front of her teeth, she squinted her eyes and stared at the brown haired girl with concentration, giving the impression that she was under deep thought.

"What if, this guy, who you _so totally_ hate, started acting all _nice_ and then, asked you to this…social event? With him? I mean, what would you _say_ to that, Hermione, assuming, of course, that this question is strictly hypothetical?" Ginny blinked as innocently as she could manage.

Hermione looked a bit overwhelmed and Ginny looked on sheepishly.

"…That wasn't a hypothetical question, was it?" she asked sagely. Ginny hung her head.

"Perhaps not," she mumbled.

"Who invited you to this 'social event'?"

Ginny took her head in her hands and glanced up at Hermione.

"Who do you think?" Ginny muttered.

"Well, it's got to be someone that's you're not exactly on good terms with."

"Yea, Herm, and just _who_ would that me?" Ginny motioned with her hands.

"But—no!" Hermione said quickly, as a look of comprehension reached her face. "He would never—would he? Why?"

"He did."

"But why?" she repeated.

Ginny, instead of completely sharing Hermione's bewilderment, shrugged, slightly annoyed.

"Don't know. Why, is the concept of me getting asked on a date baffling?"

"No! You know that's not what I meant." Hermione paused. "So, it's a date?"

Ginny sighed dramatically.

"It's a ball."

Hermione gaped, as if words should sprout from her open mouth but came out muted.

"But why has Draco Malfoy invited you to a ball, of all things?"

"Maybe he likes me," Ginny joked. Hermione didn't laugh.

"Er--because he needs a date?" Ginny tried again.

"And you're the only girl left on the planet?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"He said Pansy's…unavailable."

"Right. Somehow I doubt you were originally next on that list."

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Well, thanks for your enthusiasm, Hermione."

"You mean you want to go?"

"Er—", Ginny thought. Did she want to go? "No!" She bit her lip and looked pitifully at Hermione.

"Sort of. I've never been to a ball before. A real ball, I mean." Hermione gave a soft smile.

"Yea. Every girl's dream, isn't it?"

"Pretty much." Ginny frowned. "Not that I'll actually go. That would be awkward."

"Why not?" Ginny stared at the girl in front of her.

"Would you make up your mind already? First you look like you're accusing me of a crime for even remotely wanting to go, and now you're asking me why I won't?"

"Just asking, Gin."

"Because it's Draco Malfoy who has offered to take me!" Ginny cried. "Draco bleeding Malfoy!"

Hermione looked furtively around at Ginny's loud shout, and Ginny blushed furiously—Draco 'bleeding' Malfoy himself was sitting only tables away, giving her a curious stare.

"Be a little more discreet, will you?" Hermione whispered. Ginny nodded shamefully.

"Anyway, I know where you're coming from…and you're right, " Hermione said with a determined nod. "It could be dangerous. You don't know what he's up to, what he's plotting. And besides, your brother would have a seizure, with that violent temper he's got. You shouldn't." Hermione gave her a stern look. "I won't report this peculiar behavior of his right now, since you seem to have it under control. But any sign of weird things happening and you come and tell me so I can take care of it. Okay?"

Ginny let out a long sigh. She was right of course, but she could help but be disappointed at her answer, if only a little. By her initial reaction, she had half expected Hermione to tell her it was okay to go.

Hermione was much too practical.

"You are," Ginny said with slumped shoulders, "the voice of reason."

Hermione looked at her tentatively.

"Don't you worry, I wasn't seriously considering to go anyway. I just wanted to know what you thought about this business of him asking me in the first place," Ginny assured her.

And with a resigned sigh, Ginny dropped the subject, planning to promptly confront him after lunch.

--

An hour later, Ginny clenched her fist again as the desk behind her bumped up against her chair. She had had _enough_. Turning around, she scowled at the group of Slytherin girls chatting away excitedly.

"Will you please stop leaning against the table?" she said with strained politeness.

Amid the chatter, Pansy Parkinson stood up. And laughed.

"I don't think I want to," she murmured, before giving the table a deliberate jerk towards Ginny's chair. Ginny flushed. _Don't lose your temper, Ginny…she's not worth it_.

"Well, then. Are you sure you don't want to go elsewhere for your silly little discussion? It's rather bothersome, and I don't really care to be bothered."

Pansy's lips crept up. Ginny wondered if every Slytherin had honed the art of smirking, as it seemed.

"But you'll understand if we bother you today, because, after all, you _are_ vermin, and besides—this is rather important, the discussion of Malfoy's Ball. You know how it is." Pansy stopped. "On second thought, you don't." Her fiends chuckled from beside her.

And Ginny shouldn't have retorted next, telling herself that she was the better girl for keeping her mouth shut. But anger made her act on her instincts, more so than usual.

"Oh, you're talking about that ball, are you?" she said smoothly, her eyes suddenly shining. "Think you'll be going?"

Pansy shrieked with laughter.

"Going?" she guffawed. "I'm Draco Malfoy's date, you silly girl."

Ginny's smile widened into a large grin.

"But that's where we don't quite see eye to eye. You see, you're not his date this year."

Pansy's eyes grew still, though she still struggled to keep an indifferent sneer on her face.

"Really," she murmured. "And I'm sure you would know all about these things. Pray tell, Miss Weasley, who is to attend the ball with the coveted Mr. Malfoy?"

Two thoughts occurred to Ginny then:

_Draco Malfoy was definitely **not**__ coveted._

And—

_I'm going to be his date_.

But before she had much time to actually process these thoughts, she spoke them out loud.

"I am."

Ginny's eyes burned with the knowledge of what she was doing, the way they always did when she was taking a risk or doing something she shouldn't. She most definitely should not have been doing, or saying, this, but the look on Pansy Parkinson's face made her spiteful and vengeful. If this would get her to wipe that ridiculous sneer off of her face, if only for a moment, so be it.

Which it did.

"You?" she barked at first, but still, there was no amused expression on her face. Instead, a small dose of fear. "Ha! You certainly have a creative imagination, little one."

Ginny pursed her lips disapprovingly.

"Come now, Pansy—you're engaged. You two may have had an understanding before your little betrothal, but you're useless now. Do you think Draco would take _you_ to his coming-of-age ball?"

Pansy's face turned an unattractive shade.

"Bitch," she spat as nastily as she could, her eyes blazing. "You never did know what the hell you were talking about."

Then she turned on her heels and left with her group of friends. Ginny was given her peace, but then again, not quite.

Because now, she was left alone to ponder the weight of what she had just done.


End file.
